The Stuff Legends Are Made Of

Disclaimer: all known and recognisable characters are products of Square Enix and I own them not. All unrecognisable and unknown characters are mine. I make no profit from this fable.

Author note: This story is a prequel to my other work 'A sky pirate odyssey'. The Balthier and Fran in this tale are the same as portrayed in that story, this is just based about two and half to three years before the game begins and they are understandably different

Fran is apathetic and distant, a passive audience in her own life, bitterness creeping into her soul.

Balthier is nineteen going on twenty - three years from Archades and somewhat mentally and emotionally scarred, not to mention in serious trouble!

Chapter One: Every Legend has a beginning

How she ended up on a Rozarrian slavers ship bound for one of the smaller Purveema's that floated off the south-eastern coast of Bhujerba was of little consequence in the grand scheme of things Fran decided.

Misadventure and twists of fate, the stuff of life for Humes and heretical Viera both.

The meat of the issue would be how she managed to escape this self same slaving vessel.

In chains; the property of pirates, thieves and letches or as a free woman, the blood of her captors on her hands and the wind at her back?

Fran had been a wanderer of the thorny paths of men some forty-seven years by the time she found herself the prize lot in this illegal slave auction and she had grown accustom to this very circumstance of fate.

In those forty-seven years she had learned much and seen more.

She felt that she understood the ways of Humes better than any Viera who ever left the nurturing, but stifling, embrace of the Wood before her.

That was not, however, to say that her understanding of Humes was that great; only better than most of her kind.

Her current situation being a testament to the gaps in her understanding.

To Fran the discerning characteristics of the meat and sweat reeking men who man-handled the chained Hume cattle, herding them onto the make-shift stage, were of no consequence.

Just more Humes. Cruel, brutish and ignorant to the majesty of the world around them.

Nor did she pay much attention to the baying crowd of potential bidders filling the large chamber of the warehouse that was the only structure built on this floating lump of rock.

Fran did, however, carefully survey her surroundings for possible escape routes. None were immediately obvious.

Something, or rather someone, did pique her attention however.

A young Hume male sharply dressed in a white shirt that shone in the smoky gloom of the warehouse and an intricately patterned waistcoat vest done in shades of neon blue and black velvet, made his way with practiced nonchalance through the throng of bidders.

Fran did not know then, and would never know hence why this Hume youth captured her attention as so very few of his kind had before.

But he did and she found herself watching the male, who weaved through the throng with the ease of a fish navigating rocks in strong current, with interest.

Fran saw, because as Viera she was cursed to always see what was there and not what she might think was there, that the Hume was busily and deftly stealing purses from the baying crowd.

Fran narrowed her eyes speculatively as she realised he wasn't just stealing purses after all.

Intrigued she watched as the Hume, with features as sharp and clever as a fox, sidled up to one heavily muscled man in an eye-patch and murmured something in his ear causing the man to grunt out a laugh.

All the while the Hume's clever hands were uncorking a vial of pale reddish liquid and simultaneously removing the man's Betlegeuse gun from its holster on the muscled man's hip.

Still laughing and joking with the man the young Hume opened the chamber on the gun and poured the liquid into it, before returning the gun to the man's holster.

Fran had not been taken by such curiosity for the antics of a particular Hume in quite sometime and she watched the young Hume dance from one group of reprobates to another intently.

A laugh here, a wink for a woman there, and all the while he continued his inexplicable business.

Secreting vials of the strange liquid in nooks, crannies and in one instance, into the belt loops of a man passed out drunk on the floor.

It was while she was distracted by the strange Hume that she was pulled to the front of the stage, a piercingly bright spotlight burned down on her, blinding and disorientating.

But to Fran sight was secondary to hearing and the light did not inhibit that.

'Friends, companions, loyal customers. Today we 'ave a treat for you, eh? A fine specimen of pure blood Viera!'

The auctioneer's thick Rozarrian accent mangled the words.

' We start de bidding at t'irty t'ousand gil, eh?'

The bidding was fast, furious and fiercely determined.

Fran strained her sensitive ears to pick out the unusually refined and cultured tones of the young Hume thief above the pack of thieves, cut-throats and pirates.

' Ah, but look at her, Remus, a true blooded Viera. Quite a prize to take home to your lovely Maud, wouldn't you say?'

'Got no interest in no bloody rabbit wench, Balthier.'

A sigh of exaggerated patience from the young thief,

' Remus, in all these months, have I steered you wrong?'

'Do I hear any more bidders for t'irty nine t'ousand? Come now friends, goods like dis one come along but once in de blue moon, eh?'

' Bervenia.' The older eye patched man growled.

' Forty thousand gil!'

' Must you always bring that up?'

Another sigh, ' I have said that what happened in the Aerodrome was a misunderstanding. I was not trying to escape, merely negotiating a better rate on fuel for the airship.'

' Forty-t'ree t'ousand gil -do I hear any more bidders for forty-t'ree t'ousand gil?'

' Yer a damned silver-tongued liar, boy, and yer should count yer lucky stars I don't hang yer from these rafters with yer own entrails.'

' Forty-four t'ousand gil to de man wit' de parrot, going once, going two times, going –'

The Hume boy in the waist coat laughs.

' Perhaps you should. Though if you were to take that action I'm not sure your wallet or your wife would thank you. Liar I may be but I'm a lucrative one.'

Fran who had been watching the auctioneer carefully, particularly the scimitar that hung in it's scabbard from his belt, even while keeping half her attention on the conversation between the two Humes, chose her moment to land a round house kick to the auctioneer's rotund stomach.

Grabbing at the hilt of the scimitar she pulled it loose as the auctioneer fell into the roaring crowd.

Moving with the fluid grace of all Viera Fran used the scimitar to deflect a bullet aimed at her head from one of the slavers guns and kicked out at the wave of slavers and bidders that came piling on to the stage.

Ferocious and well practiced though she undoubtedly was, Fran was soon over powered by the sheer numbers of men surrounding her.

She was being forced to her knees, her arms savagely pinned behind her back and one of the slavers, a man whose face was a criss-cross of scars, gripped her long, delicate ears in one calloused fist.

In some ways she was grateful that the painful grip the slaver had on her ears muffled the sounds of the explosion that blew out the back wall of the warehouse and knocked many pirates and brigands to the floor like ten pins.

The den of criminals did not know how to react as smaller explosions from various places around the warehouse released dust clouds of a substance Fran immediately recognised as Mist.

Mist rendered cold and inert through Hume science.

On its own the Mist was harmless in this form, even to those sensitive to its vagaries, as Fran was, however the phantom images it produced were enough to confuse and disorientate the sundry criminals and slavers.

Fran used their inattention to escape her captors and bolted for the hole the original explosion had made in the back wall of the warehouse.

Fran was fleet of foot but hampered by her manacles, chaining her wrists and neck, affecting her balance as she ran.

She fell and ended up falling down a steep decline towards the make shift docking ports for the airships.

She came to an ungraceful thudding heap a little ways from where a nasty confrontation was taking place in front of a particularly attractive airship, that looked rather like a moth with its wings fanning out behind it and its hull painted in swirls of blue, pink and pale orange.

' Yer pushed yer luck too far, Balthier.'

The muscled, grizzled pirate called Remus had his gun pointed menacingly at the young Hume in the extravagant vest.

The younger Hume had his back to Fran and was clearly on the wrong side of the dock, Remus standing between the youth and his chosen method of escape.

'One might say, considering how things have worked out, that I didn't push my luck far enough.'

Despite the youth's obviously perilous predicament the Hume managed to sound nonchalantly amused by the situation.

' Aye, an now yer die, yer bloody toff.'

The pirate Remus pulled the trigger on his gun. Fran, view obstructed by the other Hume's body, only saw the flare of multi-coloured light and heard the pirate Remus cry. The smell of burning Mist hit the back of Fran's throat, nauseating and bittersweet.

The younger Hume, Balthier, walked towards the fallen Remus, rainbow hued vapour rising from a scorched burn mark covering his chest.

Balthier kicked the man's gun from his limp hand across the deck of the landing bay and crouched by the man to check his vitals.

' Powdered fire Magicite. My father taught me about it. Mixed with gun powder it packs quite a wallop, you'll find.'

Tone conversational Balthier checked the non-existent vital signs of the other man and quickly got to his feet.

' Right then,' He muttered to himself, ' time to affect that daring escape.'

The sounds of a mob rapidly approaching from the warehouse carried over the night air towards Fran loud enough that the Hume heard it too. He moved with haste towards the waiting airship.

Fran rose to her feet and moved up towards the Hume. Prepared to force him to take her with him or steal the airship from him if she must.

He could not know more of airships than she did. He was less than a third her years. She raised the scimitar in readiness.

The Hume started speaking without bothering to turn to face her, his voice blandly amused.

'Now, now, my dear Viera, no need to be hasty. I was going to invite you along, one unwilling guest of this Purveema to another, so there is really no call for violence, hmm?'

'You knew I was here?' Stopping she lowered the scimitar, though retained her fighting stance.

The Hume, Balthier, turned around and smiled at her, bright, young, eager.

' Process of elimination. That lot of braying slobs make so much noise, you, on the other hand, do not.'

Without waiting for Fran's response, not that she had planned to make any, Balthier opened the entrance hatch for the airship. He started up the retractable boarding ladder.

' Ordinarily I would be gentlemanly and let you go first, but frankly, I fear you might fly off and leave me.'

He quirked an eyebrow as he offered his hand to help Fran aboard. She ignored the hand and looked around the small cargo hold.

' You fly?'

Was all she said as they entered the more spacious main cabin.

' Surprisingly well, actually.'

Fran did not worry herself to puzzle out the Hume's enigmatic response instead she settled herself in the co-pilots chair.

'Then you had best fly, pirate, else the mob will be upon us.'

A loud bang from somewhere further down the gangplank caused the Hume, who had not heard the mobs thunderous approach, to jump.

Recovering from his surprise the Hume started the engines and thrusters. 'Right.'

Twenty minutes into an airship dogfight, where the small craft they travelled in should have been blown to pieces long hence, Fran had come to two important revelations about this odd Hume.

Number one was that he did, in fact, fly surprisingly well for one so young, and secondly he seemed physically incapable of shutting up for more than two seconds at a time.

'Easy does it now, there's a good girl.'

He murmured as he executed a potentially lethal barrel roll while performing a nose dive that took them close to plunging into the ocean.

Fran studied the read-outs on the radar screen.

' They break off pursuit.'

' And rightly so, we're right in the heart of Bhujerban airspace now.'

' We land in Bhujerba?'

It was as good a place as any to Fran who called nowhere home.

' I'm afraid not. The Strahl is known in Bhujerba. Nasty business a few months back. They know to look for us there. No I thought to head for Balfonheim.'

' The Strahl?'

The Hume smiled proudly flicking a sideways glance her way.

' The ship; the most beautiful airship in all of Ivalice, and mine now.'

Fran studied her companion more closely now that she had opportunity to do so.

She doubted that he had seen twenty summers yet and despite the sharpness of his features a youthful softness was still evident to his face.

As was the shadow of malnutrition and mistreatment, barely visible to less keen eyes than hers and disguised artfully behind fanciful clothes but Fran had seen enough deprivation in the Hume world to recognise its tells.

' You killed the man Remus for his ship? The Strahl? This is the reason for your actions this night?'

There was no judgement in her tone or marking her curiosity.

Humes killed other Humes for many petty and childish reasons and she was long since passed the point where it bothered her over much.

Despite this her words had the effect on the young Hume that his hands tightened spasmodically on the steering wheel and he accidentally pushed the sensitive craft into a dangerous dive.

The Hume stared at her with wide and defensive brown eyes once he had righted the craft.

' I did not kill him. He killed himself.' He said leadenly.

' You tampered with his gun, so that if he fired it would backfire and kill him.' Fran pointed out reasonably.

The Hume's mouth was pursed in a thin line and he was pale.

' There was no choice. Next time I will have a better plan.'

Fran cocked her head to the side and studied him.

' You have never killed before.' She stated recognising the signs in his glassy stare and paleness.

She felt a distant pang of sympathy. Whoever this Hume was it was never easy to take the life of another.

Even to Fran who had killed only when she must, but still more than she would like, the taking of life left its mark. As it should, for all life was precious.

The Hume looked at her, perhaps sensing the quiet sympathy in her gaze. He took a deep breath and released it carefully.

Then with conscious effort that Fran could see clearly as she watched him, he pasted the same look of amused nonchalance that seemed habitual, back on his face.

'You know I don't think I've introduced myself.'

He flashed that same bright and eager grin; a very young man impatient to leave his mark on the world.

' My name is Balthier. Former first mate, albeit under duress, to the late sky pirate Remus. Now, Balthier sky pirate extraordinaire, and soon to be legend of these skies.'

Fran found herself oddly, and uncharacteristically, amused.

' Legend of the skies?'

Again the Hume seemed to read her better than he should have been able to, for his smirk danced with shared humour.

' Indeed. I admit there's some work to do, Remus hogged most of the limelight, but I predict in a few short months I shall be the most infamous gentleman pirate Ivalice has ever known.'

' A gentleman pirate you say?'

Though her passive expression did not falter, Fran felt the first inkling to laugh that she had felt in many a long year.

The youth before her smirk deepened, an odd mix of self-aware wry humour and earnest sincerity.

' It will be my calling card; the thing that sets me apart from all the sundry pirating dross.'

He explained grandly, warming to his words and gesturing with his free hand not currently needed to steer the ship.

' I have no desire to become a meat headed brute like Remus and that lot we just left behind, so I shall bring a little class and refinement to this pirating business. The fact that I shall be robbing the wealthy and upstanding citizens of Ivalice blind does not excuse one of rudeness.'

He glanced at Fran quickly face alight with earnest intent and eyes bright with his own peculiar ambition.

' Really I have this all worked out, you know.'

Despite herself Fran could not help it. She laughed.

Softly, and really it was no more than a chuckle, but as anyone who knew Fran, not that any still did that lived, could attest to how rare such a break in her composure was.

' You are a child, Hume.'

The youth pouted, ' Well that's hardly nice. Especially as you have me to thank for your escape from that slavers auction.'

Fran quirked an eyebrow, 'You used me as your distraction to ignite your Mist bombs.'

'And you used me, and my brilliantly made bombs, to enact your own escape, in my airship to boot. And really, it is not as though my age is anything I can help now, is it? Anymore than you can your ears.'

'My ears? What is wrong with my ears?'

The youth smirked and he slouched back in his seat.

' Nothing at all that I can see my dear.' He all but purred.

' I simply meant that my youth is as much an inescapable part of myself as your Viera ears.'

Fran felt just ever so slightly foolish though she showed it not at all.

She was also less than pleased with the heat she could see building in the young hume's eyes.

It was as well that Balfonheim was fast approaching and they would soon part ways.

'Not so, for you will soon age while I and my ears will remain the same.'

As is the curse of all Viera who would walk the path of men; a world filled with strange and fascinating Humes who died too quickly for Fran.

They died while still changing, growing and learning, and left Fran no closer to understanding why it was she let herself suffer so for trying to live in their world with them.

' Do Viera not age, then?'

The Hume asked no longer looking amorous, instead curiosity burned bright in his eyes.

'I had heard Viera were immortal but had dismissed it as myth.'

' Not immortal are the Viera, but time inflicts her punishments on us at slower rate than Humes.'

' Hmm. I am not sure that that is preferable at all.' The Hume mused, surprising Fran.

' While I do not relish the notion of growing old and feeble, I'm not sure I should enjoy watching the world change around me while I remained ever the same.'

Fran blinked shocked by the youth's depth of perception, even as his ever-present smirk returned to hide the spark of sympathetic understanding that had coloured his expression.

'Quite terribly dull I would think.'

He murmured dryly returning his attention to the world outside and the approach to Balfonheim.

'You have been to the port of Balfonheim before?' He queried as they began their descent.

' I saw it first when the first settles came from the fallen Purveema Litnes.'

The youth blinked but recovered quickly.

' Well, then I imagine the town will hold no shocks for you.'

Then he laughed, causing Fran to look up from the Strahl's screens to his grinning face.

' I will not ask, that would be exceedingly rude.'

Fran quirked an eye brow, ' Rude indeed.' She agreed.

' Though I shall confess to being mightily curious.' He continued laughter in the words.

'May one inquire for how long you have been travelling Ivalice? I was given to the impression that Viera did not often leave their villages, and seldom travel alone.'

' You are well informed for a Hume.'

She pointed out avoiding the question regarding either her age or how long she had wandered.

' Blame it on a misspent youth, my dear.'

He did not seem upset that she had answered none of the questions he had put to her about herself, though she suspected he recognised the fact; such an odd Hume but not unpleasantly so.

The rest of the descent they spent in silence and soon were docked and ready to disembark in the Balfonheim aerodrome.

'Well now, my dear Viera, let me say that it has been a pleasure escaping with you this night.'

The youth gave her an exaggerated courtly bow, which Fran recognised as in the Archadian style, ruined the effect of courtliness by grinning broadly and jogged off towards the aerodrome exit.

Fran glanced back at the airship, the Strahl, once more. She truly was a lovely ship.

An old model for this day and age but built of quality to last. Sad then she would have no further opportunity to learn the intricacies of her design.